Come into my Web
by CobraShipper
Summary: The Fear invites The Fury into his favorite clearing for a little BDSM fun involving crossbows and spider venom. Rated for language and some graphic sexuality. Mostly old man BDSM smut. Enjoy!


Author's Note: I had to fix the story. I realized that I uploaded it with the story written twice. Gah! Anyway, this is incredibly manly BDSM. :) It's rated for language and a little bit of graphic-ish sex, but it's mostly, like I said, BDSM.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the forest canopy leaving patches of gold on the leafy floor. The Fury tread carefully into the clearing. Loose branches and tall grass crunched under his boots.

Fuck stealth. He was never that good at it anyway. His foot caught a root, and he ducked to avoid a spiked club that swung down from the high branches. Birds took flight and sang to warn one another of an intruder.

_Nice welcome,_ The Fury thought. He tightened his grip on the note he had in his hand, which read:

_Hey, Fury,_

_ Meet me in the clearing by Graniny Gorki for a good time._

_ Love,_

_ The Fear _

_Some time,_ thought The Fury irately.

He doubted that it would be a _good_ time. Fear was so predictable. He'd seen the spiked club thing coming a mile away. Shit, he - .

He heard a barely audible _schk! _and stopped for half a second before a loop of rope tightened around his ankles and jerked him into the trees. His cigarette tumbled from his lips, and he fumbled for it. Then he was dangling upside down from an upper branch.

"Shit, Fear!" he shouted. "You little cocksucker."

A dark-haired man with long, spider-like limbs dropped down on a rope beside him, also upside down so he could look The Fury in the eyes.

The Fear smirked, his yellow eyes glinting evilly in a beam of sunlight.

"Hello, Fury, old friend," The Fear said, stretching out his long hands and unbuttoning the top – now the bottom – button of The Fury's camouflage top. "Long time since we've done this, eh?"

The Fury shifted his weight so that he turned away, but The Fear caught him by his burnt face with one gloved hand. He pulled his other glove off with his teeth and dropped it twenty feet to the forest floor. Then he switched hands. The Fear's spindly white fingers caressed The Fury's scars as he removed his other glove.

"Cut your goddamn nails, pussy," The Fury growled.

"Keep 'em long just for you," The Fear hissed. He traced the edge of one of the dark brown scars with his fingernail until it had a white border. The splotchy pattern of light and dark patches over The Fury's gaunt face and bald head was like a camouflage itself.

The Fury shoved him away, but The Fear's sinewy arms easily grasped his shoulders. The Fear flicked his tongue out to lick The Fury under the chin.

"I remember when you used to grow hair there," he said, unbuttoning the rest of The Fury's jacket with one hand. "The Joy used to make you shave it, and you'd grumble, but you always did it… for her."

"Wouldn't we all do anything for her? The hair on most of my body won't grow anymore. The follicles are dead."

The Fear unclasped his web belt and dropped it. The Fury's jacket fell open, and his undershirt came un-tucked, revealing scars all over his stomach. The Fear spun away and crawled up his rope so that The Fury could no longer see him. He tried to swing and tilt his head so that he could see higher into the trees, but The Fear was already high above him. After some repulsive sucking and popping sounds, he saw The Fear's jacket fall past him, and The Fear dropped down again with his arms crossed and his pale chest bare except for a line of dark hair running from between his nipples to the waist of his pants.

The Fury reached out to touch it, but The Fear caught him by the wrist and pressed his thumb firmly against the inside of The Fury's thumb.

"I can dislocate it for you, make it so The Boss has to play nurse and put your thumb back into place."

"You can't say that sort of shit about her," The Fury said coldly.

The Fear looked thoughtful and a bit hurt.

"I suppose you're right."

"Goddamn I'm right, and weren't you up there dislocating your own limbs to get your shirt off?"

The Fear smiled smugly. "You haven't seen me do that in a long time. Want to watch me do it with my pants?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want, but let me down or I'll pass out."

"Sure," said The Fear, and he opened his left hand. A thin wire shot out and sliced the rope holding The Fury.

He hit the ground with a thump and a shout of, "Aw, FUCK!"

With his right hand, he reached for the rope wrapped around his ankle. He heard a telltale _vip!_ and felt a stabbing pain just above his right elbow.

"Shit shit SHIT, Fear! Your fucking crossbow? You never did that before!"

Disembodied laughter echoed from the trees. The Fury scanned the canopy. He was already feeling dizzy, partially from hanging upside down for so long but also because that bolt, as he well remembered, would have been coated in venom. Even shirtless, The Fear was invisible in the leaves. The Fury cut the rope around his ankles with his knife. A series of ominous swishes cut the air, but he was ready this time. He crawled backward, dragging his wounded arm. Four crossbow bolts pierced the ground between his legs, the last one landing an inch from his groin. He missed the fifth bolt which skewered his left shoulder, knocking him back into a tree.

His vision was doubled now, and two The Fears dangled upside down like twin spiders from a nearby tree.

"The more you move, the faster it will spread," they said.

The Fury tried to clench his fist, but the little feeling he had left in his wasted arms was gone. Every nerve ending burned ferociously. His limbs felt like dead branches.

The Fears each held a little red bottle.

"This is the anti-venom, but only good boys get it. Are you good, Fury?"

The Fury moaned. The Fear had gotten rougher in their years apart.

"Get down here, bitch!" he shouted.

"Just the answer I was looking for," The Fear oozed, popping his legs and ankles out of place and dropping naked into the underbrush. With his limbs twisted grotesquely, he scurried across the dead leaves and grass. Since The Fury had last seen him naked, The Fear had tattooed yellow and black bands down his hairy arms and legs so that when he arched his back, he looked very like his favorite Brazilian wandering spider.

He pulled The Fury's shirt easily over his helpless arms. His lizard-like tongue darted from between his lips and roamed over The Fury's hairless chest, following the curves of his muscles.

"You… fucking homo," he said weakly.

The Fear's tongue was warm and dry, but it wasn't covered in bristles like a cat's tongue. It moved over his body, smooth as melted butter.

The Fear yanked out the crossbow bolts and licked the red rash around the wounds. The warmth soothed the burning sensation somewhat. While his tongue worked, his hands found the button fly of The Fury's pants.

"Sh-sh-shit…, Fear," The Fury gasped. "What would The B-Boss think if she knew what we were… doing?"

"She has no room to say anything. She fucked The Sorrow."

The Fear found The Fury's erect penis with his hands. He hoped it wasn't just the potent venom that had caused it to be so firm. Holding tightly, The Fear slid between The Fury and the tree until he was behind him with his own member between his comrade's hardened buttocks.

The Fury tried to kick him, but his legs, now burning as fiercely as the rest of his body, barely responded. Adrenaline rushed through his system. He was helpless in The Fear's grasp. The man may have been a twig compared to The Fury, but The Fear lived up to his name. The Fury had a vague feeling of someone inside him, but most of his excitement came from his powerlessness.

The Fear dangled a jar in front of him which swam in his fading vision. It was larger than the red jar of anti-venom and clear. The Fury had the impression that it was a jar of legs.

"In here," The Fear said, opening the jar and dumping the contents into his hand, "is one of my friends, the Brazilian wandering spider. She wants to see the damage her venom can do."

The Fear held the spider an inch from The Fury's face. It swayed menacingly with its front legs in the air, a warning not to come nearer.

"D-don't, Fear," The Fury spat though it pained him to speak. "You'll k-kill me."

"The Pain's dead," The Fear said dully.

"God, no!" The Fury exclaimed, part out of grief at losing a comrade and part because he had a short wave of sensation in his body and could feel, only for a moment, The Fear thrusting against him. The pain in his body started to diminish, beginning with his extremities, replaced immediately by numbness. His own time was running out.

The Fear laid the spider on his forehead, and it crept down his nose. He saw it between his eyes, its hairy legs touching his eyelids. He tried to blow on it, but his lips were paralyzed.

"The Boss's little Snake killed him. He's after me next, so let's make this last."

"K-k-k-k-k…," The Fury shivered. His entire body shuddered, went limp, shuddered again.

"Oh, shit!" The Fear said.

He plucked the spider off and stuffed it back into its jar. Then he took out the anti-venom, poured it onto his tongue, and rolled The Fury onto his back. He parted his friend's cold lips and slipped his tongue inside, gliding it along the insides of his cheeks.

_Don't die on me,_ he thought.

To his surprise, he felt The Fury's soft palate move as he swallowed. Then his comrade's tongue came up to touch his. It ran along the underside, causing him to tremble, before The Fury shuddered again and was still. He slept soundly for a while, his naked chest rising and falling slowly. The Fear retrieved his clothing, dressed, and then crouched by his friend's side.

When The Fury awoke, the first thing he saw was The Fear's grin.

"Hello, you cocky bitch," he said, and he punched The Fear in the face.

The Fear touched his eye where his friend had punched him.

"That good, huh?" he said, still grinning.

The Fury smiled. "You're a motherfucking terror, Fear."

"Suck my dick, Fury, you disfigured bastard."

"Gladly, but next time I get to use fire."

The Fear leaned against a tree and scratched his head nervously.

"Well," he said, "it's a date… if either one of us survives the afternoon."


End file.
